Page 18 of Never Too Late

I simply couldn’t move.

He not only took my breath away, he took my ability to see anything besides him.

And my mouth started watering.

I had maybe three seconds before his shades locked on me, cementing me in place, but in those three seconds, I had a very vivid image of my tongue running through his short beard, tracing the angles of his jaw and going down the strong column of his neck.

“You need to rethink this,” he growled into his phone, stopping in front of me, ending his call, then putting his phone in the pocket of his vest. Never once looking away.

And all the while the muscle in his cheek danced.

“Sophie,” he continued in the same growl, making my already winded breath windier. And I didn’t want him to talk to me in that growl or harsh tone.

So, I just blurted, “How’s Zara?”

“Better, she’s mostly now sleeping, the fever’s gone, and the vomiting stopped two days ago. Mrs. McConnell’s with her now.”

I wanted to ask where his wife was, but I knew better.

I heard rumors, but I learned not to listen to them. Sometimes they were true, sometimes they were nothing but lies. But always, if you believed in them without reserve they brought hurt.

And it wasn’t my business.

Even though every cell in my body demanded to know, and hoped they were true and false at the same time, it wasn’t my place to ask.

I had no right.

But I couldn’t help myself. “Well, it’s good that Mrs. McConnell’s helping. Gives time for your wife to take a break.”

“My wife?” he asked like it was a word in a foreign language that he had no idea what it meant.

“Yes, your wife. And you, of course.” I raised my arm his way in a lame attempt to, I don’t even know what. It was only when his head tilted down to it that I remembered I still had grocery bags in them.

“I don’t have a wife, Sophie,” he said slowly, his aviators going back up.

“Oh,” I muttered, not knowing what to say, but I felt a warm sensation spreading through my body.

“Divorced her four years ago, she decided that having a family wasn’t for her.” I had to close my eyes when his words came out because I could see him standing in front of me, and I could see Zara in my mind. And I couldn’t fathom how any sane woman could have all that and leave it behind. Willingly.

If I had that, the two of them belonged to me, I would die before leaving them.

I would rather pull out my own nails before doing that.

“Listen, Sophie,” he started but I didn’t have the energy to withstand another of his demands of me leaving. Not ever again, but especially not now when he looked as if he stepped out from one of my dreams because that was exactly how I pictured he would look like twenty years in the future when we were together.

And I was right.

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to put up with me much longer. I’m leaving after Christmas.”

His head jerked back, his chin tucked into his throat and his hands balled.

“What?” he whispered, barely moving his lips. His hand released and went up to his face, tugging his shades and pushing them up into his messy hair.

Even though I got his magnificent eyes, I still missed the shades almost instantly. They looked that good on him.

“I’m leaving. I just want to have one last Christmas here.” I tucked my hair behind my ear, the bag rustling against my body, bumping me.

After his eyes went back to mine from tracking my hand, he swallowed. “So, you’re doing it again?”